Antarctic Winds
by I am awesome Prussia
Summary: America is in trouble. A man from his past has returned and is determined for revenge against him and all who he loves. will everybody be saved or will the antarctic winds blow them off the face of the earth?
1. Chapter 1

I'm back!

this story is gruesome and contains my favorite pairings. there is yaoi! i would love to know what you guys think of this and i love suggestions! first multi chapter so nervous about the reception of it.

i do not own hetalia etc.

* * *

Prologue

* * *

"You will tell me where he is or face my… displeasure."

"You'll have to kill me before I tell you anything you damn bastard!"

"Oh, I assure you, I will. But before that you will learn some manners boy and tell me his location. It's either that, Canada, or I will get to have my fun."

The man picked up what looked like a long coil of rope with a steel tip that was dripping ominously. The liquid was the same colour as his hair. It was almost white but still slightly blond. No, he was not an albino like Prussia, but his hair still gave off that look of snow and coldness. He unravelled the whip slowly with an evil smile on his face and raised it up in the darkness of the cell.

Screams echoed around the room while a small figure writhed in the floor, blood dripping from his bare chest and arms. His once handsome face was covered with scars and gashes from previous tortures that he didn't want to remember. The whip lashed down again and Canada screamed in agony and terror.

"Now where is he?" asked the man, still beating him with a mad look in his colourless grey eyes. Eyes that reminded you of death, and evil, and all things bad. "Tell me and we don't need to continue. Don't tell me and you will wish your punishment could be as sweet as death. I will make you watch as I kill your one true love in every way I know you fear. I will capture your only friend and turn his small mind to dust with his only fear that he doesn't even trust you enough to tell. And don't get me started on what will happen to the bear."

Canada gave a whimper at the mention of Kumajiro but clamped his lips shut defiantly. "You really won't tell me, will you?" asked the man in his voice that sounded like a mixture of silk and steel. "So be it."

He walked closer to Canada, dropping the whip as he went. "There is still time to reconsider." Canada stayed silent and the man turned his smirk into a grimace in the blink of an eye. He reached out to Canada and flipped him on his front. Canada whimpered as the cold stone floor hit his head. The man grasped one of Canada's bound hands and pulled a knife from somewhere within his red suit that was spotted with flecks of dried blood. Slowly, yet cruelly, he dug the blade into Canada's hand and turned it, smiling at the sound of Canada's pleading screams.

"Are you having fun yet?" asked the man. "I know I am. Now, are you sure that you don't want to reconsider? If you do then I will kill you with as little pain as possible and nobody else has to die, apart from your brother that is."

"Why?" asked Canada. "What could my brother have done to you to make you feel like this? How could you enjoy hurting anybody this much? I know my brother may have done some wrong but this is just unbelievable!"

The look on the man's face turned from his smirk to a scowl. "Why?" he repeated the question. "Why should I want to kill the man who promised me everything but cheated on me so many times behind my back? Why should I wish to harm Mr Perfect when everything he has done has brought me nothing but harm? Why should I wish to put an end to the feeling of having my heart torn out of my chest and fed to General Winter? I know what that feels like as well so I'm not exaggerating. Maybe I can leave the answer to that question in your hands. Before you judge me, learn of my history. I'd be willing to bet my one faithful friend that you don't even know my name, and, just to let you know, I love Emperor very much. He was one of the only good things about being dominated by the general the night he left."

The man gazed into space almost as if he had forgotten about the shocked Canadian sitting in front of him. His eyes snapped back however, as the Canada collapsed. His entire body went limp from blood loss, fear, and confusion. The man smiled. He bent down towards the Canadian and picked him up. The man walked out with Canada on his shoulder and a knife in his hands.

"It appears that I am going to need to use other methods to get to America then." The man muttered. "Ah well, if I need to give the others a shot of pain, so be it. He will pay for what he did to me. He and his brother have done things to me more than anybody can imagine… I really need a holiday" he started to giggle to himself then called out, "Emperor! I have a job for you." A small and fuzzy baby penguin waddled into the room. The man's face softened as he saw the bird but became rigid when he thought of the memories that came with the bird.

He could feel it coming. "Damn, not again." The man whispered. They always came whenever he thought of that day. "Emperor, take him." He threw Canada at the bird's feet and ran to another room, urging himself not to remember that day. He collapsed onto the floor and was surprised to find tears running down his face.

"Damn, damn, damn. Why?" Was all that he was able to say before the attack hit. It wasn't a panic attack, more like a flood of memories. Some happy. Some sad. All about him. He had had several of them over the past years. All of them painful and all were infuriating him further.

The "memory attacks" usually happened in the middle of the night when he had had the dream about that night. The tears were coming and with them the sound of screaming. He didn't know if the screams were from the memories or from his own mouth.

He had nobody in the world to comfort him. The last thing he thought before he fell into an uneasy sleep was that he would make America pay with his life for what he had turned him into. America had turned him into this monster and was going to pay thoroughly for it.

* * *

thats the end of that little bit of fun :) i did warn you that it would be gruesome. i'm not going to set myself deadlines so chapter 1 could be posted in an hour or a month! but seriously, i will try and post at least one chapter a week. toodle pip my lovelies!


	2. Chapter 2

**do not worry, i have returned. just to let you know, i ship prucan so do not continue reading if you don't like it. there are also other pairings coming up in the story. you have been warned. anyway... this one is worse. if you think the prolouge was bad, be very afraid. i have changed the point of veiw in this chapter so there will be no Canada for a while. sorry about the delay in putting this up- i have been overloaded with homework and only wrote this chapter because i got my first reveiw! YAY! i would have posted this last night but i have a trio of judges who must aprove the content of it before i post it soooooo... anyway, i am rambling, on with the story!**

* * *

Chapter 1

"England, ENGLAND! Where are you dude?" America shouted, breaking the silence of the manor. "You're late for the meeting Iggy, did you over sleep or something because people are arriving already. Did you forget that you were hosting it or something?"

America looked around the hallway. Russia, France, Germany and Italy had already arrived. They were all sitting at the long oak table in the conference room. Germany had a look of concern on his face, almost identical to America's. He knew how strange it was for the Brit to be late for something. Italy looked slightly worried also. His smile wasn't as big as it usually was and for once he wasn't talking about pasta. Russia looked like, well, Russia.

France was where it got interesting. His face was so full of emotion that it was hard to begin were to start to describe it. Let's start with how he as a person looked before we get started on emotions. His usually perfect hair looked matted and greasy. His purple robes were torn and had several large red and brown stains on them. There was also a grey liquid on one of his shoulders. His face was unshaven to an extent that it liked like he was trying to grow a beard.

Now you have that in mind we can get to his face. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. He looked like he was guilty about something but also pale, like he was ill. His bloodshot eyes showed terror but his mouth had a curl that looked like he was sneering.

"I CAN'T STAND THIS!" shouted a very worried German. He appeared to have snapped from the stress. A vein was throbbing on his temple and he looked like he was about to explode. He ran his fingers through his slicked back blonde hair, trying to compose himself. "Ve need to look for him. As soon as Japan arrives ve vill organise a search party and st-"

"WHO CARES ABOUT JAPAN!" shouted America. It seemed that Germany's rage had been passed on to him. "IGGY IS MISSING! Oh and just for your information since nobody else has bothered to notice, Canada is missing. And so is your brother Prussia, Germany. I would have thought you would have noticed him before Japan. They might just be making out in a closet somewhere with Japan filming and Iggy guarding the door but we need to check. We need to make sure that they are alright."

After America's speech, even Germany looked impressed that he had managed to string two brain cells together and actually say something that was somewhat productive. America looked like he was about to continue talking but adding in less about how worried he was and more about heroes when they heard the door bang open.

* * *

In the doorway stood… Japan. This was worrying in itself. Japan was always so careful and quiet; nobody had ever seen him loose his composure. This worry was replaced with another far too quickly. He was clutching his side so that at first it looked like he had just finished training with Germany- that would explain the panting. They would have all thought that if it were not for the fact that there was a dark _red_ liquid coming out from under his fingers.

"Canada… Prussia…Engrand…Danger…anta-" was all that he was able to say in gasping, terrified breaths before he vomited. All over England's century old table. He started coughing, shaking violently. He was coughing up blood. There was already a puddle of it forming from the brief seconds he had been standing there.

"Herp, prease" was all that he could say before he started to choke on the blood that was spilling from his mouth. After about twenty seconds of chocking, with all of the other nations staring, and Russia filming on his phone, Japan fell to the floor. His brown eyed closed as he hit the ground and he shuddered, before he stopped breathing.

To everybody's surprise, it was Russia who acted first. He flipped his Nokia shut, jumped up, and rushed over to Japan. He flipped him onto his back and instead of trying to make him become one, started pressing on his chest, right over his heart. The CPR was used with good technique with just one problem. The blood that was still spilling from Japan's side. Irritably, Russia looked for a bandage or something like it and gripped the only thing he could that was suitable.

* * *

Russia ripped the scarf from his neck and wrapped it hastily around the hole in the country's side before again attempting to bring Japan back to life. Yes. Really. He used his scarf. After about two minutes of furious pumping and Russia almost giving up he noticed a faint breeze on his neck. Looking down, he saw that Japan was breathing again. He backed away in relief and started to lick the blood off his hands while the other nations stared at him.

"What?" he asked. "Ukraine made sure we all knew how to look after each other, Da? And Mr Japan is still alive isn't he?" he failed to realise how strange it was for him to be consuming the blood of another nation. Italy looked like he was about to faint. Germany, America and France were all still staring at either Russia or at, the now thankfully alive, Japan.

Then the shouting started.

* * *

**and thats the end of that. i'm sorry if you were looking fore more canada. if you want to see a particular character be injured or die then comment it and i will see what my favorite one is. i will be torturing some anyway, i have plenty planned. i love to make them suffer :). i hope you enjoyed my sick imagination. toodle pip untill next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**heeey! sorry for not updating in a while. school is hell and i cant sleep because of all my homework and loads of other things. i would have posted this sooner but to be honest, i couldn't be bothered. but, it could have been worse. i hope you like this chapter. i do not own hetalia etc. more blood and gore to come!**

* * *

First came blame. Then came tears. Then came Germany's voice over the sounds of Italy crying, America shouting at Russia and France screaming at Japan, pleading with him to wake up and tell them he was fine. "Everybody shut up! Italy, stop crying and get the medical kit. You two stop arguing. America, take Japan upstairs. Take France with you also. He can help you with directions to England's room. Put him in bed. Russia, come with me. We need to see if the man who did this is still in the house and if he is, how he managed to take Japan down. If Japan is correct then there may be more injured nations. We need to find them. Now everybody, GO!"

In shocked silence, the countries obeyed Germany. However, just as Japan had been carried out and Germany was left alone in the room, a single tear fell silently down his face. He caught himself and brushed it away. He looked around to check if anybody had seen. Finding nobody, he pulled a gun out of his pocket and walked out the door.

* * *

Germany found himself in a narrow hall. He could hear each individual footstep as it was made. France and America upstairs, Italy in the bathroom, looking through the cupboards. Russia following him into one room, his pipe in his hands, as they looked for the attacker.

From above, there came the sound of a shout, a muffled sob, and something heavy being dropped on the floor. Germany looked at Russia, who had also heard the commotion, then sprinted out the door of the dining room and ran up the hall. He flew up the stairs and sprinted in the direction the sound had come from. He flung open one door and nearly fell over Japan, who was lying on the floor.

* * *

The room looked like a bomb site. There were holes in the walls, there were doors hanging off their hinges, there were broken vases with flowers spilling around them. The room was nothing compared to the commotion happening inside it. On the floor, his hands and feet bound, gagged, with a huge hole in his left shoulder and cuts and bruises littering his naked body, was England. Well, almost naked. He had America's bomber jacket hiding his "vital regions", as Prussia would say. The owner of said jacket was on his knees at the nation's side, biting his lip and looking like he was trying not to cry.

France was again odd. In a situation like this he would have usually taken charge, bossing everyone about and telling them how they should leave and let him deal with it. Today however, France was huddled in a corner, tears rolling down his face, and rocking backwards and forwards, like he was wishing he could be anywhere but there. He was staring desperately at England, willing himself to be able to do something.

* * *

England was not looking good. He was pale green. He was shaking. His face was bloody, his nose gushing out blood as if he had just been hit. They could tell it had been hit later however, by the pool of blood that was drenching his hair. This pool was just a drop compared to his shoulder. It was easily recognisable as a knife wound; the edges were jagged and torn, quite unlike the clean path of a bullet. His other shoulder was a mystery. It was swollen and red, and had a dark, silvery liquid around one tiny hole. This hole was barely visible to the naked eye, like what you get after you have shots.

Italy decided that that would be the best moment to walk in. Well, he didn't decide it. It was just that fate had had thought that this story needed a comedic relief from all the drama and pain. Fate was disappointed however. Italy took one look at Britain, and keeled over in a dead faint. Russia caught him before he hit the ground and carefully placed him there, taking particular care not to touch his curl. He picked up the medical kit that Italy had dropped on his way down, and threw it to Germany.

* * *

Britain started to shake, violently. Then he started to cough. It was satisfying to know that he was still alive but it was too much for France. Especially when he started gagging up blood, just like Japan had done. France started to scream. "Anglataire, Anglataire, Anglataire! Wake up! Sil vous plait! Please! Please! Please! Stop!" he was suddenly by his side, shaking him. Trying to force him to consciousness. His mind was so worried that he couldn't make sense of what he was doing.

"Gerrof him!" shouted America, pushing France away. "You're gonna make him worse! Besides you don't care about him anyway. All you have ever wanted is to take your lust out on him." France looked hurt and shocked. He stood, and stared at America. Without warning, he slapped him, straight across the jaw.

"Don't think that just because you weren't raised by me that you can just boss me around Amérique. We have been together since we were children and only started to fight because of you. You are the cause of all our problems. The so called lust that you see is me trying to regain what was once our relationship. But that can never happen. You will always be there. You ruined it. You killed the England I knew and twisted into the man you see today. We were lovers once you know? But now, I can never tell him that I never stopped loving him. It is all because of you. It's all your fault; it's always your fault."

France backed away after this alarming speech and grabbed a blanket off the bed before huddling away in the corner, trying to make himself invisible, and trying to muffle the terrified and mournful sobs that were coming from his mouth.

Russia was bored. There was too much love in the air and nobody had actually started to help either nation. He decided that it was time to take charge.

* * *

**yaaaay! Britain is half dead like Japan and France is having a panic attack! just the way i like it; blood, gore, and wayyyy too much drama. it will probably be **


	4. Chapter 4

**hey there dear readers! my a/n seemed to be cut off at the end of the last chapter.:( but, im baaack! its the winter break so i am able to update! this chapter was reviewed by one of the three judges and since it isnt likely that i'll see the rest of them during the break, i decided to post it. merry late christmas! im rambling now. enjoy the story. i dont own hetalia etc**

* * *

Chapter three

Russia knew that unless he did something, Britain would die. He jogged over to Germany, snatched the medical kit back off him, pushed America away and knelt next to England. He carefully proceeded to disinfect his shoulder. He then started to stich up the wound. America and Germany looked stunned at how well Russia was taking this and France was huddling under his blanket in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably. Russia finished his stitching and wrapped England's shoulder in a clean white bandage that turned red as soon as it made contact with England's skin.

Russia then began to press lightly on different places on England's chest, frowning slightly at each new place. Nose had already started to stop bleeding. He stood up and looked at America and Germany. "The knife did not hit any major vessels and I have stitched it up so he does not die of blood loss. However, he has nine broken ribs. Four on his left and five on his right. It could be a problem however as I do not know if any of them punctured his lungs. We cannot check for internal bleeding until we get him to a hospital. America, help me move him up onto the bed so we can look at Japan, da!"

America however, seemed to have other plans. He looked at Russia in horror and almost joined France at the wall. Germany saw that America was distressed and went to help Russia in his place. The both of them carefully picked England up and placed him on his queen sized bed. The both of them then wandered over to Japan.

The sight that they saw when they got closer made Germany pale and Russia start to kol. Japan was worse than they had thought. The Asian nation's face was a sickly pale colour, and the flesh around his wound was starting to tinge green. Russia thought he might need both Germany and America's help to treat Japan. He called America over and started to tell both nations what to do.

By this time, Italy had awoken. He saw the sobbing France and almost went to try and comfort him before he heard a voice calling his name. Looking around for the source of the noise, he saw England in his bed and Russia, America and Germany huddled around Japan. He then heard the voice again and this time he recognised it. But it couldn't be. Not now. Not here! He hadn't heard the owner of that voice since Holy Rome died and…SHIT!

That meant it could be him. After the time that Holy Rome died, Italy was depressed. Not like he cried a little. Like he tried to kill himself, depressed. He tried to overdose on his antidepressant medication and it put him in a coma for a week. But it was the time that he had spent unconscious that had caused it to occur. When Italy had awoken, he kept hearing a voice. It told him terrible things. That he was worthless, that he was weak, that it was Italy that had caused Holy Rome want to go away in the first place. His doctor told him that his brain had a trigger. Whenever he fainted he would hear that voice. And now, it was back.

_"You worthless piece of shit!" _the voice said. _"You can't even handle the sight of a little blood can you? You're pathetic! No wonder everyone hates you. Oh and by the way, watch your back. The thing that did this is probably hunting the weak. You'll be next!"_

Italy tried to push the voice out of his mind, even though he sensed some truth in what was said. He decided that to distract himself from what was just said, and walked over to France to try and comfort him.

France was rocking backwards and forwards under his blanket and behind his sobs; Italy could hear muffled shouts of "Anglataire, Anglataire, Anglataire." Constantly repeating its self. It appeared that France was still struggling to come to terms with England being this close to death. Italy slowly removed the blanket and squeaked when France flung himself into Italy's arms, clinging to him like a lifeline.

Italy sighed in defeat as he felt his army uniform being soaked. Then Italy realised. France was hot. Too hot. He was boiling! Italy gingerly placed his hand against France's forehead and almost shouted out. Shit. France had a fever. It wasn't just the heat from the blanket- his forehead was actually painful to touch! That could not be good.

It was then that Italy caught sight of the silver substance on France's shoulder. He remembered seeing it in several other places that day and had only just realised what it was. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Italy pushed France's head of his shoulder and peered into his eyes. He saw with horror that they were flecked with amber. Italy was right and it had started.

The eyes were the first sign that the poison had entered the bloodstream. The same poison that killed him. France was going to die, just like Italy's first lover. Italy shoved France away and pushed himself up off the floor. Tears fell down Italy's cheeks as he remembered that day.

_A battle field. A lone figure lies in the mud. Somebody is shouting, running towards it. It is a young girl in green and holding a push broom. A young Italy sprints towards the shape. "Holy Rome!" the crying child shouts._

_The man on the ground looks up and Italy can see amber flecked in the blue of his eyes. "I-I-Italy" is all that the wounded man is able to say before he collapses in a heap. His black robes are tattered and blood-stained and there is a trace of something silver on one of his arms. He starts shaking. He tries to get up again but falls again only this time he stops moving completely. Externally and internally. He is no longer breathing and the girl is crying even though she should be too young to understand death._

* * *

**yaaaaaaaay! italy is mental and france is going to die. i do love the dramatic stuff, don't i? i love reviews as well. hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! toodle pip my lovelies!**


End file.
